Gethsemane's Kiss
by Oldwickedsongs
Summary: It was supposed to be the battle that ended the war. It was supposed to leave a victor but, there would be no victors- only survivors. Eight on each side, like an army of chess, only the pieces aren’t supposed to change color. A/U Fic!!!! R/R


Disclaimer: "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, 

That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear. 

And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream." 

-Midsummer's Night Dream 

Gethsemane's Kiss

By: Lady Erised

          It was supposed to be the battle that ended the war. It was supposed to be the last, great battle between the Order of the Phoenix and Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters. It was fought on some forgotten plain in Britain, where waterfalls rushed over black marble between rolling hills of emerald lands so beloved to its people. That day the waters ran red. Toward the end of the battle, it was impossible to tell the time of day for the sake of the smoke and ash, only sixteen remained alive; eight for each side. Eight warriors, the same number as guardians of Japanese emperors. These were holy protectors of the Emperor's vast kingdoms. The eighth house in Tarot Cards is Scorpio's domain, the Scorpio is known for it's steel will and iron resolve. Eight is also the number of pawns in an army of chess. 

And the number of pieces of power: rooks, knights, bishops, the Queen and King. Like the black pieces and white, great wizards from each side lined up to do battle in the skirmish that would end this war. It was supposed to leave someone as the victor, but before nightfall, there would be no victors- only survivors. 

Eight, like an army of chess, only the pieces aren't supposed to change color.   

          Albus Dumbledore leaned heavily against the stone slab. "It wasn't supposed to be this way…"

          Severus Snape regarded him with a look of disgust and weariness. "Was there any other way?" He asked coldly. His face was darkened with soot, dried blood and muck. Three pale scars that adorned his left eye glittered from sweat and blood. His left arm hung limp at his side, a large festering wound tore through the shoulder. It was still too early to tell if he'd be forever paralyzed.

          Dumbledore looked over the vast torn field of the dead.  Among the dead were Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Molly Weasley, Minerva McGongall and about a hundred other faces and names of wives, husbands, sons and daughters. So many, too many, lay as they had died, holding their wands with one hand and clinging to loved ones with the other. "So many dead, Severus."

          "That's the way it is in war, Headmaster. People die, sometimes by your hand, sometimes by others. It doesn't matter. The only thing that does matter is that at the end of the day, you have more men than he does."

          "Another victory like this and we will be undone."

          "Professors, Wood's dead." Both men looked up through world-weary eyes and stared at Harry Potter.  

          Snape yawned, leaning back. "And then there were eight." He started to laugh. "The impulsive bastard, I told him his blocking spells were weak."

          "Go to hell, Severus." 

          "Been there. Done that. Helped create it." Severus said, turning to the man and favoring Sirius Black with his most genteel smile. "In fact, I think I saw your girlfriend there."

          "You bloody bastard, I'll rip your heart out." Sirius shouted, sweeping towards him. 

          Snape stood, keeping his limp arm behind his back to protect it. He stared deep into Sirius eyes. "Do it then."

          Sirius met his gaze hatefully. Black was many things and his hate for Snape was renowned but he was not a murderer. He had no stomach for it. He had killed men before but never owned the crime, unlike Snape who not only committed the act but also did it with the same skill and artful moves he used to finish a potion. Sirius' victims kept him up at night. Snape's victims were parts of his prestige. Those he fell empowered him like some great god of death. He lived through their deaths, used them to master and beat back whatever demons kept him up at night. Snape was a god of death. He had made himself into one. Sirius hated him for that. "I should kill you."

          "Do it then."

          Another tense moment between them, this one ended by Harry touching each one's shoulder. Both men backed down out of respect for Harry. Sirius did so because Harry was his godson but Snape's reason was a little murkier. In the past years, Harry had matured to look even more like his father. James Potter, perhaps one of the earliest links to Severus' humanity, always stood before him. For that reason perhaps, Harry was always a tender subject for Snape.

          "You're bleeding, Dad." Harry whispered, looking at Sirius' puffy lip. 

          Remus Lupin looked up from tending to Hermione. "Come here. I'll get it."

          Harry watched Sirius leave before turning his eyes toward Snape. He guided Snape back to his stoop against the rocks. "You're bleeding too, Professor Snape. I'll get this." 

          "It's a scratch."  

          "It's a deep scratch that's getting infected." Harry said, as he wiped blood from Snape's festering shoulder wound. Snape bit down on his lip, trying not to writhe from the pain. Harry glanced over, smiled and seemed to press a little harder on the wound. Snape grimaced and smirked at him.

          "You're enjoying this too much."

          Harry nodded. "Sure I do. I enjoying watching people die and bleeding slowly to death."

          Snape nodded. "Right. Thought you did." He turned his attention to the world around him. There was nothing but death and despair. Some he had created, most he had seen done. This was nothing new to him. He had seen this all before. After all, he was god and this was his kingdom. But now, finally, it was time to end this reign. This Dark Lord had survived long enough. "Remember what I taught you, Harry?"

          Harry looked at him. "At least a hundred ways to tell someone off but not really tell them off?"

          "My, weren't you an apt pupil but no." Snape muttered. "About my dark arts."  

          Snape said it freely now because it was already a known fact. He had been Voldemort's Dark Prince until he had missed a step, said a word, and lost his will. He had fallen from Voldemort's graces with a single action. Something he laughed out about now. 

          He had saved a life. 

          No one he knew. The woman wasn't even a witch. She was just some face a Death Eater had brought in to torture for sport. Snape had watched them, as he always had, waiting for them to kill her. But then, something had changed; he had changed. He couldn't let this one die, too. So he didn't. He had thrown away everything he had fought, bled, died and killed for. 

          For one woman. One woman whose name he never knew. He snorted. How the mighty fall.  

          But, that's the way it was in the world. Evil's born, cultured, matured, let loose, challenged, defeated and reborn. His time as the Dark Prince was over. In many ways, he was glad for it. Now, he could finish it- on his terms, his way.  

He had taught Harry about everything he knew, everything he had done. He taught Harry things no one alive should know, because it was what the boy, (No, Snape corrected himself, the man) needed to learn. He taught Harry Voldemort's favorite type of magic. The type of nameless, wandless magic Voldemort had once used to instilled fear in his own followers. A type of magic whose name changed with every book or teacher. Some called Nameless magic, some called it an offspring of runic magic, the name Voldemort had called it was Aett Magic. 

Aett Magic had a terrible price, however. It could corrupt the soul, despite the greatest and purest of intentions. So, aside from the rudimentary skills, Snape had taught him only two signs; one to suddenly kill a person, the other to bind them. 

Used together, they would bind a soul. If Voldemort had taken measures against death, it was the Prince's rule to always use the weakness. 

Voldemort's weakness was his soul. He could continue living without a body but he was weak without one. Snape had found a way to bind him in that weakened state.

It was Harry's turn to use it.

"I'm frightened, Professor." Harry was saying. "I don't think I can do this…"

"You have to, Harry."

"Why?"

"Because that's this story's end." Severus' voice was soft, and still and he was gazing off into the distance. "The boy hero saves the world from the great evil. He goes on to live his life in peace…while those evil few retreat back to shadows." He turned to Harry and smiled softly. "And continue to be Potions Master."

Harry smiled back and inhaled. He nodded slowly.

"Ready?" Severus stood, nursing his wound again. "Let's end this story then."

And at the last, great battle ensued. Had I the skill, dear reader, to capture the fierceness of either warrior's actions or to relate to you the weight that grounded each word, each curse use, I would gladly do so. I, sadly, lack that skill but it is suffice to say, for the purposes of this ballad, that the Dark Voldemort and the Boy Who Lived battled for the fates of men.

And everyone else alive that day could only play a witness. 

The greatest evil against a child, a demon incarnate battling the child who bested him once. Pure evil against innocence, wrong against right, black against white, King against pawn…

If only the pieces had stayed the same color.

At the end of the battle Harry, near death and tired beyond his years, stood alone. Voldemort had been bested. 

The war was over. 

And heaven and hell fell silent. It was Lucius Malfoy who reacted first. He turned to the other Death Eaters, those still alive and standing. "Retreat, go into hiding till I say so…" One by one the Death Eaters silked into the shadows to await new orders. Severus Snape watched them go. Lucius and the other Death Eaters would not fall away this time. The Order of the Death Eaters would not be so easily destroyed this time. Snape would ensure that. He turned his head just in time to see Dumbledore walking toward the fallen body. 

"I still remember him as a boy." Dumbledore whispered as Severus approached. "He was so lost but talented. I had thought…if I could just reach him. If I could…"

"It's not your fault, Headmaster." Snape said tenderly but he didn't feel tender. He just felt, relieved, excited and even ecstatic. Voldemort was gone. The Dark Lord was vanquished. 

"How can evil like this exists Severus?" Dumbledore asked sounding naïve. He sounded like a child. "How does evil live?"

He couldn't have asked a better-suited candidate. "Evil like Voldemort has to exist. It's all for the story's sake. He has to exist so heroes can be defined and good guys can be honored. It's an old story, one told too many times. But he is not the worst kind of evil, Headmaster." Severus smiled. He reached inside his cloak. "I am."

          "No!" Harry shouted watching from a distance as Severus stabbed Dumbledore. Time stopped. 

          Severus laughed as Dumbledore fell into his arms. "Don't you know Headmaster, never trust a traitor…"

          "Wh…why?"

          "Oh, you really aren't going to start this story are you?" Severus sneered. "But because you saved my life. I'll let you know. I am the Dark Prince…and in the order of succession, I was next in line after Voldemort. Voldemort was a fool however and very wand happy at that. While he sought immortality, I merely seek power in this life. He had to be dealt with before I obtained my power. Thank you for your help."

          He then dropped Dumbledore unceremoniously. His eyes fell on Harry and he smiled. Snape pulled out his wand and aimed it at Harry. 

          "No, Professor…" Harry whispered. "You taught me how to kill Voldemort."

          "Because it was easier then trying to kill him myself. Like I said, Harry. That story, that reign needed to end. It's my turn now."

          "I'll kill you."

"You want to kill me now…fine another time." Snape pulled his wand back. "Today bury your dead." He apparated.

Leaving the world reeling.

Author's Note: Now…wasn't that a kick in the head? You want to kill me now? ::smirks:: Fair enough but wait till I finish Sins of the Father, deal? Anyways many thanks to my Muses (Devil and otherwise and to my Beta) Also check out my new Live Journal for insider info on the Dark Prince: if you ever had any questions or are confused just tell me and I'll answer it in my life journal! 

          On yeah one last thing: A very good friend of mine wrote a spin off of my DP stories so check it out: 

          Pen Name: Amissa  Story title: Seal your Fate

          Read it! It's amazing!


End file.
